


The Sultan's Favourite

by bjfic_archivist



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Abuse, Alternate Universe, BDSM, Canon, Drama, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Romance, Unsafe Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-01-12
Updated: 2008-07-10
Packaged: 2018-12-26 17:50:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 20,381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12064014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bjfic_archivist/pseuds/bjfic_archivist
Summary: 1793 - 17-year old Justin Taylor is sent to France by his parents to finish his education in order to become a succesful merchant, but his ship is attacked by pirates. Justin is captured and sold as a slave to the Dey of Algiers. The Dey decides that Justin would be the perfect gift for the sultan of the Ottoman Empire, Brahim Ibn Ali.





	1. The Journey Begins

**Author's Note:**

> Note from IrishCaelan, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Brian_Justin_Fanfiction_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in September 2017. I posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/bjfic/profile).

  
Author's notes: This story is set in the Middle-East of the 18th century. I changed some of the names of the QAF-Characters to Arabic names. This is a list of names which I changed, the others stay the same. Also, I'm not a native speaker of English, so I apologise for mistakes.  
  
Brian Kinney: Sultan Brahim Ibn Ali  
Justin Taylor: Justin/ Safire  
Lindsey Peterson: Lindsey/Leyla (lady of the night)  
Debbie Novotny: Dahab (Gold)  
Claire Kinney: Clara  
Joan Kinney: Janan (heart)  
Emmett Honeycutt: Mehmet  
Gus: Ghussan  
Melanie Marcus: Melnihah  
Michael Novotny: Mikal  
  
  


* * *

\- Pittsburgh, 1793-

"Justin ... justin, hurry up, the carriage is waiting."

Sighing Justin turned away from the window with a beautiful view on the green grounds of the Taylor estate. He loved his home and would miss it dearly. How many times had he sat in the window frame, drawing all he could see. Now these happy, carefree times were over. His father, Craig Taylor, president of Taylor's Companies, had decided to send his only son to his brother in France in order to complete his education. There he would study economics, accompagny his uncle on bussiness trips and learn everything there was to learn about cargo's and profits. One day Justin would have to follow in his father's footsteps and take over Taylor's Companies. It was a future that Justin dreaded like no other. He knew he didn't have what it took to become a merchant like his father and the rest of his family. Justin wanted to be an artist.

"Justin for Christ's sake, come down this instant."

Grabbing his sketchbook Justin ran down the stairs into the large and luxurious entrance hall of the house. There stood his father, mother and his little sister Molly. "Time to say goodbye, Justin", his mother said "you wouldn't want to miss the boat to France."

"No, mother, I'm sorry to have kept you waiting." Justin replied dutifully, while thinking he would do just about anything to miss the stupid boat. He stepped up to Jennifer and gave her a kiss on the cheek.

"Oh, my son, I will miss you. Promise you will listen to your uncle and work hard."

"I promise, mother." Justin gave his little sister a big hug and approached his father. Reluctantly he held out his hand.

"Goodbye Sir."

Craig shook his son's hand but wouldn't let go. "Justin, always remember you're a Taylor. Taylor's don't doodle on stupid drawings, they make money. Now give me that sketchbook, you're not taking it with you. This is a fresh start, no more drawings, no more painting, that's all over now. Don't you dare disappoint me, son."

With an intense sorrow in his heart Justin handed his sketchbook over to his father. He knew better than to make a scene about it. Only last week his father had caught him painting a portret of his sister, when he should have been doing paperwork for the firm. Justin had receiving a whipping he would not forget very soon. He managed to hold back his tears and said "Yes, sir, I won't disappoint you."

"Good, now get into that carriage quickly. Time is money!" Craig said.

Justin took the last of his belongings, hugged his mother and sister one last time and went outside. The driver opened the door of the carriage for him. He hopped in and leaned back against the seat, his eyes closed, afraid of what was about to come.


	2. Brahim ibn Ali

  
Author's notes: Some words might need an explanation

Divan: the counsil of the Ottoman Empire  
Janissares: soldiers, the elite troupes of the sultan  
Deftedar: treasury keeper and advisor of the sultan  
Kizlar Agasi: the chief white eunuch, keeper of the harem  
Valide Sultane: mother of the reigning sultan, most powerful woman in the Ottoman empire.   


* * *

Sultan Brahim ibn Ali, supreme ruler of the Ottoman Empire, most powerful man in the Muslimworld, right hand of Allah on earth, lay down on a couch in his private chambers. He used these rooms to sleep, eat and to invite his close friends. He loved to be able to spend some time alone, away from the court. Brahim was very tired. He had just spent another day filled with endless councils and meetings with foreign rulers and ambassadors.   
  
The position of sultan came with a huge responsibility. In the past there had been many sultans who had neglected their duties and passed their days in decadent indulgence. Even Brahim's father, the cruel sultan Ali, had never cared much about establishing a healthy political climate. Brahim was different. He never missed a meeting of the Divan and always took the time to listen to the advises and complaints of the Janissares, the Turqish elite troups . He truly cared about his people.

He had made a lot of architectural changes in the capital, Istanbul, and had improved the living conditions of the poor. The reign of Brahim had brought peace to the empire, because he had succeeded in putting an end to the Persian revolts that had cost the lives of so many soldiers. All these achievements made Brahim an extremely popular sultan.   
  
Brahim stood up from the couch to take of his robes. After the excruciatingly long day he felt exhausted and he looked forward to a quiet evening. When he lifted the heavy fabrics of his shoulders, he felt instantly better. It seemed as if his responsibilities as a sultan were momentarily forgotten. He let the expensive robes fall on the floor, not bothering to pick them up. His servants would take care of that. While taking a pear of silk trousers out of one of the closets he looked at his reflection in the gold mirror engraved with diamonds that decorated the room. He was pleased to see that his figure had remained unaffected by the court life. His body was lean and muscular, but not too much. Brahim never allowed himself to indulge in the excellent palace cuisine. He swore to himself that he never would look like his predecessors, who –by the looks of their portraits- had been a bunch of fat pasha's. 

Closing the closet door, Brahim went to a little dressoir, made of turtle wood, with a golden decanter of wine placed on top. When he poured himself a glass, he heard a discreet cough coming from a corner of the room. He turned and saw that Mikal, his close friend and defterdar of the empire had entered the room.   
  
"My lord, good evening, is everything as you wish?"  
  
"Yes, Mikal, I'm going to dine here tonight. I've had quite my fill of mingling with courtiers today."  
  
"Off course, my lord. Would you care for some company? Perhaps one of the lovely beauties from your harem," Mikal suggested.  
  
Brahim sighed. He didn't consider spending an evening with one of his numerous concubines as a nice diversion. In fact he had very little interest in his 'Harem beauties'. There was only one woman whose company he actually enjoyed.  
  
"Very well, Mikal, ask the Kizlar Agasi to bring the lady Leyla here."  
  
"As you wish, my liege." Mikal bowed and left the room. Outside stood Mehmet, the Kizlar Agasi, the white chief eunuch of the harem.   
  
"Our lord cares for the company of the lady Leyla", Mikal said to Mehmet, "go and fetch her."  
  
Mehmet left quickly and walked towards the Gates of Felicity, the entrance of the harem of the Topkapi Serail, with a deep frown on his face. He was responsible for the harem, but this wasn't an easy task, especially if the sultan kept picking the same woman as his partner over and over again. 

The Topkapi Serail was the home of more than thousand women. True, not all of this women were meant to be a concubine, there were also lots of servants and elderly ladies, who had been the favourites of the previous sultans. But still, the sultan received new slaves as a gift from foreign rulers everyday. He never gave them a look. All his affection and love was reserved for Leyla, his first concubine and mother of his son Ghussan. 

Leyla was an extremely beautiful and sweet woman, who seemed to know the sultan better than anyone. Brahim often had temper tantrums, when he was angered because of a dispute with his counsil or the political situation of the empire, and only Leyla was able to get him out of his gloomy moods.  
  
Mehmet opened the large bronze door that was the entrance of the harem and immediately felt all eyes fixed upon him. Wherever he looked, he saw women, white, black, thin, plump, … coming from all over the world. A lot of them didn't bother to put on clothes and walked around naked as the day they were born. There was one thing all these women had in common: they were all amazingly beautiful and dying to draw the attention of the sultan. Mehmet sighed because he knew he'd have to disappoint the lot of them again.  
  
The Kizlar Agasi scanned the large hall and saw the lady Leyla sitting on a couch in the center of the room. She was dressed in a pink silk dress embroidered with delicate silver flowers and there were pearls in her long blonde hair. At her feet a little boy was playing with a slave girl. It was the prince Ghussan, the sultan's only son and heir. Next to Leyla sat another woman with dark brown hair, her best friend Melnihah. Mehmet had always suspected the two women were more than friends, but even if this was true, none would care. Lots of girls in the Harem were romantically envolved with each other.   
  
"My lady", Mehmet said as he approached the couch, " Our lord requests your presence."  
  
"Does he? Well I won't keep him waiting then. Melnihah, dear, would you look after Ghussan, please?", Leyla said with a soft voice.  
  
"Certainly, Leyla," Melnihah replied with a smile.  
  
Leyla stood up and was about to follow Mehmet, when she heard a sharp voice addressing her.  
  
"Leyla, being called to please my son again, are we?" 

The voice belonged to the lady Janan, the mother of Brahim and the Valide Sultana. Next to her stood her daughter Clara, a rather plain girl with a bored look on her face.  
  
"Yes, my lady," Leyla replied with a small bow.  
  
"Off course you do know that this a disgrace, don't you? My son has a palace filled with women and he only ever picks you. This can not go on. He must take other women, get them pregnant and have more sons. One son simply will not do. Tell him this Leyla!"  
  
"But, my lady Janan", Leyla replied, "the sultan decides who he takes to his bed, I can not influence his decision."  
  
"Sure," sneered Janan, "but you don't exactly mind the fact that you're his only wife, do you? Listen to me, girl, I'm the Sultana Valide, I am mistress in this Harem, not you. It would be wise to obey me."  
  
Leyla's face went red with indignation, but before she could say anything, Mehmet interrupted.  
  
"If your majesty would pardon me, I should escort the lady Leyla to your son now."  
  
"Very well, go on then," Janan said. "But Leyla, remember my words or you'll live to reget it."   
  
Janan turned her back to Leyla and left the room. Mehmet quickly took Leyla outside before anymore harsh words were said.  
  



	3. Leyla

  
Author's notes: This chapter tells u a bit more about the relationship between Brahim and Leyla. I'm afraid it will take some more time before Brahim and Justin will meet.  
  
kadin: wife of the sultan, who has given him a son  
habibti: "My love" (Arabic)  


* * *

"God, I hate that woman. I never thought I was capable of hating anyone, but sometimes I just wish one of the harem women had the guts to strangle her or to poison her.", Leyla said to Mehmet.

The Kizlar Agasi's face went pale. "My Lady, hush, you must not say these things … if someone would hear… you would be in mortal danger. And the Valide is capable of making your life a living hell."

"Well, she's already doing a great job. She loathes the sight of me … she doesn't even like Ghussan, her own grandson, just because I'm his mother", Leyla said.

"You know she's just jealous of you because of the important place you take in her sons life," Mehmet tried to comfort Leyla. "Come on, my dear lady, it's getting late and the sultan is waiting."

He guided her through the long corridor, past a line of guards who all bowed when they passed. Mehmet stopped at the door of the sultan's private chambers, went in and anounced the lady Leyla.

Leyla entered the room and saw Brahim laying on his bed, nipping from a glass of wine. Without paying much attention to the proper formalities she approached him and gave him a kiss on the forhead. 

"My lord, you look very tired. Did the members of the Divan drive you quite mad today?", she asked with a smile.

"They did indeed, but now you're here it's all beter", he answered with a big grin. "Well, my sweet Leyla, lady of the night, how is our wonderful son doing?"

"He's just like his father, only three years old and already in command of the whole harem."

Brahim laughed "My my, and here I thought that my dear mother was in command. She never forgets to remind me of that little fact."

"Yes", Leyla sighed, "she likes to remind me daily too."

"She doesn't bother you, does she?", Brahim asked with a frown.

"No my love, forget about it, let's talk about more pleasant things." Leyla said, clearly hoping to avoid more questions about the Valide. "Did you receive a lot of ambassadors today? What gifts did they bring?"

"Leyla, you're not telling me that you don't have enough jewelry, gowns and expensive furniture already? I shower you with gifts every single day."

Leyla pretended to be offended. "My lord, do you think me so greedy. I just wanted to ask about your day, but if you think that I …"

"Alright, I apologise", Brahim said while he pulled Leyla on his lap, "I'm sorry, habibti, will you please forgive me the grave error of insulting you." He looked at her with his tong in cheek.

"Uuuhm … okay, if you tell me about the presents."

"Incorrigable woman!" Brahim shouted. He seemed no longer tired now. "Fine, presents … the Kalif of Damascus gave me twelve beautiful horses, all white as snow. I've got some artefacts made of gold from the ambassador of Venice … oh and four Circassian slave girls for the harem."

"Four new girls!", Leyla exclaimed, "my lord, soon you'll have to buy a whole new palace just to make room for you harem."

"I know", Brahim said, "I don't know why everyone keeps giving me these girls. What do they think I can do with thousand women?"

"I think lots of men would certainly know what to do with a thousand girls, all eager to please them."

"I'm not like these men then", the sultan replied, "I'm stuck here with a palace full of women I don't need. I have you, we have Ghussan. That's all I need."

Leyla knew he was lying. 

She hesitated, she thought she knew what is was that Brahim needed, but she never had the nerve to tell him. Although she was his first and only kadin, she never forgot that she, just like all the other women of the sultan, was just Brahim's slave and that he could do with her whatever he wanted. 

Leyla would always remember the first time she had set eyes on Brahim. He hadn't been sultan at that time. And she … she had been a frightened little slave girl, surrounded by people whose language she didn't understand. They had named her Leyla and it had taken a long time before she got used to that name. Before she had been Lindsey Peterson, daughter of the British consul in Russia. She had been raised in Britain, but when she was 16 years old, her father had taken her with him to Moscow. When she accompagnied her father on a diplomatic visit in the Crim, she had been abducted by slavers. They had taken her to Istanboul, where she had been bought for the son of the reigning sultan Ali. Brahim had picked her out of more than hundred girls and had very rarely taken another woman to his bed. 

Leyla knew that Brahim loved her, but not in a passionate way. Their relationship was uncomplicated and gave him comfort. They lived in a perfect harmony and yet there seemed to be missing something. A spark, moments of passion … real love. Sure, she loved Brahim, but again, it wasn't like she would never be complete without him. What existed between her and Melnihah, that was love. Brahim didn't know that kind of love and Leyla knew he would never find it in his large harem. 

She decided it was now or never, she had to say what was on her mind. Not because of what Brahim's mother had said to her – she couldn't care less about the old bat – but because she wanted to see Brahim happy.

"My lord, you know that it's not true. I'm not enough. And no woman in the harem will ever be enough for you." There, she said it.

Brahim looked up in surprise. "What do you mean?"

"I mean …", Leyla struggled to finish her sentence, " I wanted to say that … well, you can't love me or the women in the harem … because … because we're women and not men."

She looked at him in horror. Why on earth had she said that? He would kill her, he'd order his guards to trow her into the Bosporus and to strangle Ghussan. It was the truth, she knew it, but surely Brahim wouldn't appreciate it.

She quickly fell down on her knees. "I beg your forgiveness, my lord, I shouldn't have said that, it was not my place, I …"

"Stop", Brahim said firmly, "don't apologise." He pulled her up and held her face with his hands.

With a sigh he said, "Allah, leave it up to you to point out what I've known all my life, but never allowed myself to admit. You're right, women don't interest me one bit." 

Brahim stood up and poured himself another glass of wine and gave one to Leyla too, because she looked like she was about to faint.

"Isn't this ironic?", he said with a fake smile. "Look at me, I've got a harem filled with the most beautiful girls from all over the world, yet I find none of them attractive." He turned to Leyla.

"Leyla, I love you, you know that but it's …"

"I know, I know, you don't have to explain. Please, my lord, I'm so sorry about what I said."

"Enough, you haven't hurt me. You've just had the courage to speak up to me. Very admirable. Now go back to the harem, to our son. We'll speak again tomorrow. Right now I'd like to be alone."

Leyla raised from the bed and walked to the door but Brahim stopped her. He gave her a tender little kiss on the lips and whispered, "Thank you, my Leyla, for everything." 

Then he took her to the door and ordered one of the guards to call the Kizlar Agasi who would escort Leyla back to the harem. He stepped back inside and closed the door.

Leyla had been right off course. He was surprised she had kept her opinions about his sexual preference to herself all this time. Surely, she must have known it for years. He, on the other hand, had known it since the day he was born. This was like a cruel game. He couldn't be a 'homosexual'. What would his advisors, his enemies say? They would laugh and everyone who was against him would finally have a weapon to create his downfall. 

Brahim looked up at the portraits of his predecessors. It wasn't like he was the only sultan with a preference for men. His ancestor Selim the Great was known to have had a harem filled with young boys. But history had remembered Selim as a decadent, incompetent sultan. Not just because of his sex life, but nonetheless. Homosexuality was often associated with weakness, not suited for real men, and certainly not for sultans.

Yet, he couldn't deny that it couldn't go on like that. The vision of his harem haunted him like a burden that would never go away, while it should have been a haven of pleasure. Something had to change, but how?


	4. Pirates!

  
Author's notes: Some sentences in the text are in Arabic but you 'll find a translation. Once more, sorry for mistakes, writing in English is not easy.  


* * *

Justin stood on the deck of 'The Liberty', the ship that was bringing him to France. It was the first day he actually managed to go on deck without puking all over the ship. His time aboard 'The Liberty' had been hell and he was sure he had filled half of the Atlantic Ocean with vomit. But things were a little better now, he wasn't looking green anymore. Maybe he had gotten used to the sea. 

The view he had over the ocean was amazing and Justin found himself wishing he still had his sketchbook. He sighed, it was time to go inside and continue studying economics. His father had given him some books and told him he exspected Justin to spend his time aboard the ship studying. As he made his way across the deck, he passed some sailors who started to snigger when they saw him. 

Since the first moment he had set foot on 'The Liberty', the sailors had been making fun of Justin. Not to his face -he was still the son of the owner of the ship-, but Justin had heard them talking about what they called ' the little mama's boy' or 'the blond sissy' numerous times. One of the sailors – Justin believed his name was Hobbs – was particulary cruel in finding names for Justin. Justin always pretended he hadn't heard the insult, but the name calling and gossip did hurt him. He didn't understand why these men loved to pick on him. Maybe they were jealous of his name and fortune, but what they didn't know was that Justin was probably just as jealous of them.

Fortunately he didn't have to spend to much time with them. At night Justin always had dinner with the captain of the ship, Mr. Abott, who could tell fascinating stories about his adventures on the sea. Justin never became tired of hearing these stories and encouraged captain Abott to tell more everytime.

Just when he was about to descend the stairs that led below deck, Justin heard an alarmed shouting. 

'Captain, captain, there's a ship at starboard, moving quickly towards us.', the man in the crow's nest yelled.

The captain grabbed his binoculars and looked in the direction the sailor was pointing to. 

'God be with us', captain Abott said grimly, 'pirates! Everybody on deck now. Jackson, the canons! Hobbs, the guns! Now, now!!'

Justin stood there, frozen. When captain Abott saw him, he yelled "Mr. Taylor, gett your ass below decks and lock yourself in your cabin!" Justin hurried downstairs, ran to his cabin and locked the door firmly. Now all he could do was wait.

Since there were no windows in his cabin, Justin didn't have the faintest idea about what was going on. He could hear gunfire and crashing noises, yelling and hurling. Obviously the pirates were already aboard. Justin hoped with all his heart that the sailors would manage to win. God, this wasn't happening. He had read about pirate attacks in his adventure books at home and had listened to captain Abott 's stories about Blackbeard, but this had all seemed like something that could only happen in a story.

Suddenly it was quiet. No more screams, no more gunfire. Who had won?

Justin pressed his ear against the door and could hear footsteps on the stairs and in the corridor close to his cabin. Now he heard voices, speaking in a language he did not understand. The pirates! They had won the battle and were busy inspecting their fine catch. What would they do when they found him, Justin asked himself.. Probably kill him without thinking twice about it. He paniced, he didn't know a single thing about combat and fighting skills. His father had thought that irrelevant for a merchant. Rich merchants paid other people to fight for them. 

Okay, he thought, so be it. If he was going to die, he would at least try to put up a fight, no matter how futile his attempt would be.

In the meantime the pirates had reached the door of his cabin and were trying to come in. Justin's eyes scanned the room in search for something he might use as a weapon. There, the sharp knife he had used to cut an apple. He grabbed it and stood in the far corner of the room, opposite the door. No point in hiding. The door opened with a crack after one of the pirates had aimed his pistol at the lock. Two of them came inside and discovered Justin immediately.

Justin gasped. He had exspected the pirates to look like the pictures in his adventure books, but they didn't. The two men had a light brown skin, black bears and dark eyes. They each wore black tunics and a turban. Huge curved swords were attached at their leather belts.

They looked at him and a satisfied smirk was evident on their faces.

' Huwa jameel', one of the pirates said.

( Arabic for ' He is beautiful.')

'Jameel jidda', the other replied.

(Arabic for ' Very beautiful.')

The fact that Justin could not understand a word of what they were saying, made him very nervous. For all he knew they were planning how they were going to kill hem. He held the knife in front of him and screamed 'Stay there, don't come closer!' 

Seemingly without paying attention to the fact that Justin had a knife, one of the pirates approached him. He tried to take the knife from Justin, but Justin was to fast for him. He raised the knife and managed to plant it in the man's arm. The pirate cursed, pulled the knife out of the wound and drew his sword. Justin backed away, knowing he would be dead any second now, but the man turned his sword around and used the wooden handle to hit Justin on the back of his head. Then everything went black.

When he regained consciousness, at first Justin did not know where he was. He was not dead, that was for sure, because he figured he wouldn't have this severe headache if he was. Looking around him he saw that he was lying in a bed, but when he tried to sit up he noticed that his hands were bound together and chained to a metal ring in the wooden wall. He was still on a ship because he could feel the boat floating on the waves, but it wasn't 'The Liberty'. Justin knew every cabin of 'The Liberty', because he had wandered around the ship many times, but this room he had never seen before. So he must be on the pirates' ship. 

Why hadn't they killed him? And why had they placed him on this comfortable bed, instead of throwing him in a cell or a cage. They probably thought he might prove to be of some use. 

Off course, ransom. They wanted money. Justin would have to write his family with a request to send money in exchange for his release. What would his father say. Justin knew Craig Taylor was quite capable to refuse the pirates ' demand and let him rot. But his mother would never allow him to do so. Craig would be angry, and would make sure that Justin repaid every cent of this ransom by working as hard as he could for the family company. At least, he would be free.

Justin heard some noise outside the room and tried to sit up a little bit. The door opened and a man came inside. He had the same skin color as the other two pirates, but was dressed in a different way. His clothes and turban were white and looked much better than the outfits of the pirates he had seen so far. This had to be the pirate captain.

'Anta jameel fi' lan', the captain said, 'raqiq mumtaz.'

(Arabic for ' You are beautiful indeed, an excellent slave')

The man was smiling and came closer. With his hand he cupped Justin chin and studied his face.

'English?', the captain asked with a horrible accent.

'Yes, yes, I speak English.', Justin answered, very relieved that he could understand the man. 'Look, if it is money you want, let me write to my family. They will pay.'

'No money from family', the pirate replied, 'not enough.'

'No, you don't understand. My father is very rich, he will pay a lot of money for my release.'

The pirate laughed out loud. 'Haha, not need money from father. Me, Hassan Agha, want more money. You … lot of money … good slave.'

A slave? Had he understood that criminal correctly. This was not possible.

'You can't sell me as a slave, I'm a free man.', Justin almost screamed.

'Not free, you slave now, raqiq. Sell you in suq of Algiers.', the pirate gave Justin a cruel smile and stood up to leave.

(raqiq, Arabic for 'slave' ; suq, Arabic for 'market')

'No, no no, please, let me write my father, please. Don't do this to me…'

But the pirate had already left. Justin slumped back against the wooden wall in dark despair. They wanted to sell him as a slave. He would never make a good slave, never. What would they make him do, manual labor? He had a vision of himself, covered with grit and dirt, dragging heavy rocks under a burning sun. Impossible, he would be dead in a week. Maybe he would be bought a servant to work in a kitchen or something like that. All his dreams, his hopes, were shattered to pieces. True, he didn't want to be a merchant, but as a merchant at least he would be free. Being a slave was a fate worse than death. 

Not wanting to think further about the future that awaited him, Justin finally allowed himself to fall asleep.

The following days Justin spent his time sleeping and reading his books. Strangely enough, the pirates had brought him his belongings, probably after checking there wasn't anything left in his bags he could use as a weapon. In the daytime he was allowed to leave the bed. They chained his ankle to the wall, but the chain was long enough to permit him to walk around. He couldn't leave the cabin, but they brought him food three times a day. Every morning a pirate would bring him a bucket with water and some soap so he could wash himself and he was also allowed to shave, but when he did so, a pirate stayed with him all the time, so he couldn't use the rasor to kill himself. In sum, they treated Justin rather well.

Justin did not know how many days he spent locked in the pirates ' ship. Time went by very slowly, but Justin did not care, because he was not looking forward to what would happen when they finally would arrive at – how had that pirate scum called it - … Algiers. When they would arrive there, he would be sold and God only knew what would happen to him then. 

Finally, when he was almost going crazy because of the loneliness and the isolation in the small cabin, he woke one morning and could no longer feel the large waves that had carried the ship over the ocean. The ship still moved but only a little. Panick filled Justin. They were there, in that strange city. He could hear the pirates shouting and carrying the cargo upstairs. 

Soon the captain entered his cabin, followed by two of him men. He seemed in an excellent mood.

'Sabaah alchair, good morning, we arrive at Algiers.', Hassan Agha said.

(Sabaah alchair, Arabic for 'good morning')

He gave one of his men an order in that strange language they all spoke and the pirate opened the lock to Justin 's ankle chain. Justin stood up from the bed and reached for his clothes. He only had a long shirt on him now and he felt very uncomfortable. But as he wanted to take his trousers, the pirate took them from him.

'No need clothes, take of other clothes!', the pirate captain ordered.

Justin just stared at him. Impatiently Hassan Agha nodded to one of his men, who grabbed Justin and ripped his shirt of him.

Justin was shouting, 'No, what are you doing! Don't touch me!', and struggled in vain while the pirate undressed him completely.

Hassan Agha laughed, 'Boy slave now, no need for clothes.'

Justin was naked now and felt his face flush with shame and anger. The man who had undressed him, grasped him firmly. Hassan Agha came closer and reached for something inside his robes. He took out a metal collar and closed it around Justin throat with a sharp snap. The pirates then proceeded to bind Justin 's wrists together with a piece of leather and took him upstairs.

When Justin arrived on deck he could see that they had indeed arrived at a harbour of a city. Everywhere he looked he saw people with the same complexion and the same outfit's as the pirates. Where was he? 

Suddenly he spotted some other prisoners … the sailors of 'The Liberty' and captain Abott. They looked terrible, covered with dirt, with heavy chains connecting their wrists and ankles. But they still had all their clothes on.

Justin was lead towards them, naked as the day he was born, except for his collar. He could not have been more ashamed.

'Ooh, look at the faggot boy!', he heard one of the sailors say, ' Poor little baby, you can't hide behind mommy's skirts now.'

'Hobbs, shut up!' Captain Abott 's voice. ' Mr. Taylor, you're still alive. I was so worried.'

'Captain, what is going to happen to us. Are they going to sell you too? Where are we?', Justin asked, hoping that Captain Abott could give him some information.

'We're in Algiers, in North-Africa. The inhabitants are muslims, heathens, and they make a lot of money selling Christian slaves, like us.'

'I hoped they would let me write my father, so he could pay a ransom, but they wouldn't. I don't understand. Who would want to buy me?', Justin asked.

'Mr. Taylor … Justin, I should tell you the truth. The crew and me, we will be bought as slaves for manual labor, but we probably wont be slaves for very long. Ships from Portugal and Spain who have lost some members of their crew in a storm, often stop at Algiers to buy new sailors, who already know how to function on a ship. Besides there are many Christian orders in Europe who pay money for the release of Christian slaves. But given the fact that you're – pardon me for saying so – a rather handsome young man, you will be sold for a lot of money. Some people are very interested in buying men for the same purpose they would buy a woman.'

'What do you mean?', Justin wanted to know. Before captain Abott could tell him more, Hobbs interrupted their conversation.

'He means that you will spend the rest of your life on your knees, fag, sucking some fat pasha's greasy dick.', Hobbs said viciously.

Captain Abott shouted, 'Hobbs, that's enough from you', but Justin ran towards the surprised sailor and rammed his bound fists in Hobbs 's stomach, as hard as he could. Hobbs almost fell down but was caught by his friends. With a dangerous look in his eyes he lunged himself towards Justin but was stopped by two mean looking pirates.

'Stop', Hassan Agha yelled, 'not touch boy or die.' The two pirates began beating up Hobbs and pushed him back to the place where the others were standing. 

Justin stood frozen, amazed by his own actions and the reaction of the pirates. So captain Abott and Hobbs had been right, he was a worth a lot, otherwise the pirates would not care a bit about him getting hurt. 

He tried to steady himself against the railing of the ship as he watched how the crew of 'The Liberty' was lead of the ship to the quay. Now Hassan Agha was yelled something to one of his men, a hugh black man. The man nodded, walked over to where Justin was standing, grabbed him and lifted him over his shoulder as if he weighed nothing. And so Justin was dragged of the ship, naked, for everyone to see, crying quietly to himself.


	5. The Dey of Algiers

  
Author's notes: Again translations for words in Arabic can be found in the text.  
  
You will notice that the spelling and grammar of my stories has approved, thanks to my beta SolarisDay. Remaining mistakes are my fault.  


* * *

As the black skinned pirate made his way through the crowd that filled the streets of Algiers, Justin closed his eyes, trying to shut everything out. Everywhere around him there were voices, mumbling, shouting, arguing in that strange language full of sharp sounds. Captain Abott had told him they were in North-Africa in a Muslim country, so Justin knew the language had to be Arabic. He could sense people closing in on his escort and felt hands touching his hair, arms and buttocks. Instead of screaming to get off him – it wouldn't have helped him anyway – he tried not to move or react at all, which proved to be very difficult, because his genitals were being crushed rather painfully against the broad shoulder of the pirate. 

After what seemed like an eternity, the man carrying Justin stopped and lifted him off his shoulder. The pirate had to help him to his feet and hold him steady, because Justin was completely disorientated. When he had lost a bit of his dizziness, Justin saw a a group of Arab men staring at him. They were obviously very enthusiastic about the sight he presented. They motioned for him to come closer, but Justin was so afraid that he backed away, bumping into the black skinned pirate behind him. 

He turned around and looked pleadingly at the man. 'Please', Justin said. 'Please, I beg you.'

The pirate didn't understand a word but Justin thought he could see a little flash of pity in the man's eyes. He clung to the pirate and pleaded wordlessly for an escape out of this living hell. The man simply shrugged, shook Justin off and pushed him in the direction of the Arab men. 

They grabbed him, holding him firmly and began to inspect his body; hands everywhere stroked his hair, pinched his nipples, swatted his ass and pried his mouth open to take a look his teeth. Justin felt sick and barely suppressed the urge to puke all over them. 

What would they do to him. In this nightmare-world he had no rights. Nothing was certain here.

Finally the inspection was over. Now he could hear the slave traders negotiating with Hassan Agha. They were shouting at each other. It seemed they were having a hard time setting the minimum bid. When the arguing stopped, one of them grabbed Justin by the wrist and dragged him onto a wooden platform in the middle of the large market place. 

As soon as Justin appeared on the stage, people began to shout almost frantically. But Justin refused to look up. He kept his eyes fixed on the wooden platform as if it was the most interesting thing he had ever set eyes on. He tried to cover his genitals with his hands, but the trader would have none of that. Roughly, he pulled Justin's hands away and forced them behind his back so that he was exposed even more. The humiliation was too much to bear. 

Justin seemed to have gained the attention of almost everyone in the suq. People were trying to get closer to the stage and were making bids hoping to purchase this most extraordinary slave. The whole spectacle reminded Justin of a horse auction his father had taken him to once. Never, not in his worst nightmare, could he have imagined that one day he would be present at another auction with himself as the merchandise people wanted to buy.

 

Suddenly the market place was quiet. An important looking man had entered the suq, followed by an escort of soldiers and bodyguards. The representative of the Dey of Algiers had arrived. One of the slaves accompanying him, shouted something at the trader standing next to Justin. The trader nodded back an almost immediate reply.

Justin had been sold.

He would never know how much money had been offered to purchase him. He would never know that he had made Hassan Agha a very wealthy man. But then again, he didn't care.

The trader pushed Justin to the edge of the platform, where he was handed over to yet another man. He was taken to a strange sort of coach that was being carried by the servants of the man who had bought him. They motioned for Justin to get into the coach, which he did immediately, relieved that for the moment no one was touching him. They attached his bound wrists to one of the poles in the coach and closed the curtains.

Justin closed his eyes and hoped it would be a while before they reached the house of his owner. Owner, the word sounded so strange. Only this morning Justin had believe that they could not make him a slave if he continued to consider himself a free man in his heart. Rubbish, nonsense. At this very moment, only a few hours later, Justin feared he would never truly feel free again. 

As he felt the coach moving through the mass of people in the crowded streets of Algiers, he was grateful for the curtains. They were only curtains, but to him they seemed like a massive wall that protected him. Exhausted by all the tension and sorrow he'd had to endure, Justin fell asleep.

When he woke again, the coach was standing still and the curtains were drawn open. The leather bands securing his wrists were cut and he was gently urged to stand. 

Justin got out of the coach and took in his surroundings. He was standing in the courtyard of what seemed like a small palace. A nice palace, actually, with sand-coloured walls tastefully ornamented with blue motifs. The artist in Justin could certainly appreciate the fine craftsmanship.

However, there wasn't any time to take a good look, because he was taken inside through a maze of narrow corridors, until they walked into a large hall. There were a lot of people standing in the hall, but Justin didn't pay any attention to them. Instead he looked at the person who was sitting on a throne at the end of the hall. 

The Dey of Algiers. Justin felt his knees go weak. God please, this could not be true. Before him sat a man that reminded him a great deal of the hurtful description sailor Hobbs had made. Fat, no make that huge, dressed in the most expensive looking robes and nearly crushed under the weight of a load of jewelry. Was he supposed to serve this revolting person? Never.

When the Dey laid his eyes on Justin a very pleased smile became apparent on his face. He seemed very pleased with the purchase his servants had made and told them so. At least that was what Justin suspected, since he couldn't understand what the man was saying. 

But now he addressed Justin.

'Arabiya?' the Dey asked.

(As in 'Do you speak Arabic?')

Justin didn't react and continued to stare at the man, who was trying to figure out which language Justin would understand.

'English?' the ruler of Algiers asked. Justin nodded.

'Aha! Well, dear boy. I have to say that you are one of the prettiest things I have ever seen in my whole life. Allah has done well with you.' 

Justin didn't appreciate the compliment very much, but was surprised that the Dey could speak English so well. 

'Let me get a better look at you,' the Dey said, motioning for his servants to help him stand, a task they performed with quite some difficulty. Supported by a few slaves, the Dey staggered over to where Justin was standing. Justin wanted to run away but forced himself to stay on the same spot. 

'Ah, yes. You will do. You will do very nicely', the Dey said with a smile.

'Please, your majesty,' begged Justin not knowing how to address the man. 'Please. Let me write to my family. They will pay a ransom for my release, I assure you.'

The Dey laughed out loud. 'Laisa haza al walad ashraqu jameel siwa, walkin huwa muhaththab aydan.'

(Arabic for: 'This blond boy is not only beautiful, he is polite as well.')

Justin didn't know what he had said that was so funny.

'My boy', the Dey explained him. 'You should not address me as 'your majesty'. I'm a fairly important man, but I’m only a vassal to the supreme ruler of the Ottoman Empire. And to answer your plea, no I'm not going to let you write to your family. You have to forget about them. You have a new life now.'

'What are you going to do with me?' Justin asked, defeated.

'Don't look so terrified, boy. I have no intention of keeping you here to amuse me. You may be very beautiful, but I still prefer the women in my harem. No, I'm sending you as a gift to my lord, the sultan Brahim ibn Ali. Rumor has it that he doesn't enjoy his harem girls the way he should. Maybe, just maybe, he'll enjoy your company more. And if he does, he'll always remember that it was me, who sent you to him.'

Justin gasped. He didn't know a lot about the Middle-East, but he had heard of sultan Brahim ibn Ali, the greatest ruler the Ottoman Empire had ever known. His father had often complained about 'that filthy Turk, who made trade in the Mediterranean bloody difficult because of all his conquests'. And this man, this powerful man, was to be his owner, his master. Heaven forbid.

‘Now, now. Don’t look so sad, little boy. Life in the harem isn't so bad, once you've learned how to obey and please', the Dey assured him. 'You'll stay in my harem for few weeks to rest and get used to some of our customs. Just one little thing. Your name? What is it?'

'Justin', Justin choked out. 'Justin Taylor.'

'Not anymore, forget that name now. From now on you'll be Sapphire. I can't think of a better name for a slave with such blue eyes. Now, off to the harem with you', the Dey said not unkindly.

The Dey shouted some orders at his servants and Justin was led away from the hall. No not Justin anymore. Sapphire.


	6. Introduction to the Orient

  
Author's notes: Another chapter where they won't meet. Sorry! It will happen.  
  
Translations for the Arabic expressions can be found at the end of the chapter.  
  
Thanks a lot to my beta SolarisDay for all the hard work.  


* * *

While Justin was led to the harem, the words of the Dey reverberated in his head. He could not believe how his life had changed completely and so quickly. He had always been Justin Taylor, son of a merchant and future president of Taylor's companies and now - now he was a slave; a slave who wasn't even allowed to keep his own name because pirates had sold him. Because one man had decided he should become the prized possession of the sultan. 

Justin shivered. He might be ignorant about the whole concept of slavery, but he knew damn well why they were interested in him. It was clear that the pirates and the Dey were pleased with his looks. Had he looked just the same as the sailors of The Liberty he wouldn't be here now. It was all so unfair. Justin hadn't asked to be a delicate boy with pale skin, piercing blue eyes and soft blond hair; a male copy of his mother. All his life he had been teased because of his appearance. But at least he could take the biting comments and insults. This sudden interest in his body was much harder to bear. 

What did they expect from him? The Dey had told that the sultan didn't seem very fond of the women in his harem. Would the sultan like Justin better? And more importantly, would he want to use Justin the same way he used his concubines? Surely, that was not possible. 

Justin knew a little about sex – his father had often told him tasteless stories about 'going at it with the maid on the kitchen table', stories, which Justin had found absolutely revolting – but he didn't know a thing about sexual acts between two men. Of course, he had heard his fair share of whispered gossips about Colonel Bradley’s son who had run away with a stable boy and had disgraced the whole family and also about the two men, who’d been found living as sodomites in the little white house at the end of the village and had been arrested, but somehow he hadn't thought about the sexual aspect of these 'unnatural' relationships. The idea of two men having intercourse actually didn't shock Justin that much. The thought that he himself might very soon be forced to have sex with another man did.

In the meantime they had arrived at a golden gate. One of the servants knocked and waited for someone to come and open the door. They didn't have to wait long. The door opened and a short bald man wearing only a pair of white pants appeared. He motioned for Justin to come in. Justin followed the man but stopped abruptly once he had passed the threshold. He was standing in a spacious room with white walls and a blue ceiling. There was a small dome built in the roof, which allowed sunlight to enter. The room was decorated with beautiful carpets, colourful cushions and poufs that looked very comfortable. Everything exuded luxury. In the far corner of the room Justin could see a few women, five or six, chatting and laughing together. 

Suddenly, he heard a shriek and saw another woman coming into the room from another door. Justin immediately wished he had his sketchpad so he could draw her. She had frizzy red hair, a warm round face and was dressed in the most hideous colours he had ever seen, a purple dress with a very bright green shawl draped around it. Nothing seemed to match. She rushed up to him with open arms and a huge smile on her face, looking like a mother hen that had just discovered her little chick. Before Justin had a chance to back away she grabbed him and held him in a tight embrace while she muttered incomprehensible words to him. 

At first Justin wanted to wriggle free, but it felt so good to be held and comforted that he relaxed. Finally, he permitted himself (to) let go a bit and soon he was crying in the arms of the strange woman. She hugged him even tighter and shouted something at the other women sitting in the room and they all stood up and left immediately. 

The man with the white pants approached the two of them. The woman embracing Justin spoke to him. He nodded and addressed Justin. 

'As-salaam aleykum, merhaba. Welcome to the Dey's harem. My name is Nadir and I am the eunuch of the harem. The woman that is currently suffocating you is the lady Dahab, mistress of the harem. She wants you to know that you do not have to be afraid while you are living here. She says that if anyone tries to hurt you she will tear his testicles off.

The lady Dahab, let go of Justin and smiled at him. Justin was a little shocked. He thought it was rather rude to make statements about testicles when talking to a eunuch, but the woman seemed very nice and so did Nadir. He couldn't help giving both of them a shy smile. 

Nadir continued, 'The lady Dabab wants to know what your name is, your first name, not the one our master has given you.'

'My name is Justin', Justin replied.

Nadir translated this for Dahab and told Justin, 'Dahab cannot pronounce your name, but she says she will call you 'Shamsy' which means 'my sunshine' in Arabic. Your blond hair and your smile remind her of the sun.'

Justin groaned. Another name.

'If you will follow me, I will bring you to your room. You look very tired and in need of rest. Dahab will bring you something to eat. Is there anything else you would like?'

'Some clothes … perhaps?’ Justin asked with a blush. 

 

'Oh, certainly. But you will need to get used to walking around naked. Your body is nothing to be ashamed of and you should not hide it from your master.'

Justin looked alarmed.

'Will … will the sultan order me to be naked all the time?'

'I do not know, boy, but if he did, you would have to obey. But we will talk about that later. Tomorrow we will start your education. I will teach you everything you need to know in order not to make a complete fool of yourself, while you are in the sultan’s service.'

Nadir showed Justin to his room, a small but very comfortable space and handed Justin a caftan. Justin wrapped it around his body eagerly, crawled into the large bed and was asleep before his head had touched the cushions.

 

The next days proved to be very interesting. Every morning after breakfast, Nadir would come to his room for a long lesson about the different aspects of the Oriental culture. Justin learned some basic expressions in Arabic, but had great difficulties with the pronunciation. Fortunately, Nadir was a very patient teacher and he never scolded Justin for learning to slowly. Actually, Justin rather enjoyed the lessons.

Nadir also taught him how he should behave in a harem and in the presence of his master, the sultan. Justin learned how to greet his lord properly. First he had to touch his forehead and the place over his heart with his right hand, extend his hand in the direction of the sultan and then drop to the floor with both hands by his sides. Nadir told him he couldn't stand up before his master had ordered him to do so, which Justin found very humiliating. He had to address the sultan as 'Master', our 'Lord of life'.

Life in the harem, especially a large one like that of the Topkapi serail, was rather complex. There was a strict hierarchy. The mother of the sultan, the Valide Sultana, was in command. She was the queen of the harem and made all the internal decisions. Second in rank were the official wives of the sultan, the kadins. Nadir told Justin Sultan Brahim ibn Ali had only one kadin, Leyla, the mother of the prince, the shahzade Ghussan. The favourite concubines of the sultan were the iqbals. They had separate chambers and the amount of properties, clothing, jewelry, and allowances given to them was proportional to the affection the Sultan held for them. A woman that had gained the interest of the sultan was gözde. She could become an iqbal if she pleased him. Odalisques were at the bottom of the harem hierarchy. They were considered servants in the harem or ladies-in-waiting to the kadins and iqbals. They were not usually considered beautiful enough to be presented to the Sultan. Only the girls with extraordinary beauty, wit and talent could hope to meet the sultan and spend the night with him. 

Not once Nadir spoke about male concubines, so Justin asked him if there had been sultans who had preferred males. Nadir told Justin that Sultan Mehmed II, the great conqueror of Constantinople and founder of the Osmanli-dynasty, had held captured Christian youths in his harem for his pleasure. Sometimes a sultan had some male odalisques, but this was always kept quiet. If a sultan admitted he preferred men, his position would be in danger. 

Nadir warned Justin. 'Boy, you are in a very exceptional position. No man can enter a harem, unless he is sultan or his genitals are removed in one way or another. You are now considered an odalisque, with the same status as the female slaves, but if you ever touch one of the harem women in an inappropriate manner you will lose aforementioned body parts and probably your head too.'

Justin didn't think he would ever touch the female slaves in an inappropriate way, but decided he would never take the risk.

Nadir also introduced him to Islam, the religion of the Muslims. Justin had to learn the Islamic credo 'La ilaha ila Allah, wa Muhammad rasul Allah' by heart. 

He was also expected to join in the salaat, the prayer that was performed five times a day. The whole harem would gather in the main room, facing the holy city of Mekka, and perform the ritual, with exclamations and bows. The salaat was announced by the muezzin, who stood on the tower, the minaret, of the mosque of Algiers. He invited and urged the whole city to participate in the salaat, with the words:

'Allahu Akbar. Allahu Akbar. Allahu Akbar. Allahu Akbar. La ilaha ila Allah, wa Muhammad Rasul Allah. Hay al' Salaat. Hay' al Salaam. Allahu Akbar. Allahu Akbar.'

That first week Justin couldn't understand a word, but after he had taken some lessons from Nadir, he began to understand the meaning of the strange shouts. Nadir told him he would be expected to convert to Islam. This troubled Justin a great deal. Not that he had ever been a pious Christian, but his parents had raised him as a catholic and he felt no urge to convert. But he knew he wasn’t given a choice. 

Most of Justin's days in the harem of Algiers were spent on Nadir's lessons, but there was time for other things. Twice a day, Dahab took him to the hammam, the baths of the harem. There, Justin was bathed in a large pool. Afterwards Dahab would give him a thorough massage and shave his whole body. This made Justin very uncomfortable. It wasn't as if he had a lot of hair on his body to start with, but Dahab made him feel like a hairy baboon. Everyday she searched his whole body twice for the slightest trace of a little hair. In the beginning, Justin had protested, but Dahab had pushed him down on the marble floor of the hammam and had silenced his complaints with a very firm look. Sighing, Justin gave in. If he didn't, Dahab would just get Nadir, who would give him a long speech about the fact that Justin didn't own his body anymore. He couldn't stand that. 

After a week, Justin skin felt even smoother than before and Justin suspected that, if the pirates tried to grab him now, he would slip right out of their hands.

 

During his stay in the harem of Algiers, Justin only talked to Nadir and Dahab. He never said a word to the other women in the harem, the favourites of the Dey. He saw the Dey a few times, when the latter came to the harem to be entertained by his concubines, but always fled to his room when the other man entered. Although the Dey hadn't treated him harshly, he couldn't stand to be in the same room as the man who gave him the same consideration as a piece of meat - a nice present for his superior. 

Altogether, Justin liked staying in the Dey's harem in the company of Nadir and Dahab. He dreaded the day he would have to leave and face an uncertain future.

 

Arabic Expressions

As-salaam aleykum, Arabic for 'hello'; merhaba, Arabic for 'welcome'

 

Shams, Arabic for 'sunshine; Shamsy, Arabic for 'my sunshine'

La ilaha ila Allah, wa Muhammad rasul Allah, Arabic for 'there's no God except for Allah and Muhammad is his prophet.'

salaat, Arabic for 'prayer. The prayer is performed five times a day. Once before sunrise, once aroud noon, once in the afternoon, once in the evening, once after sunset.

muezzin: the person who announces the prayer.

Allahu Akbar. Allahu Akbar. Allahu Akbar. Allahu Akbar. La ilaha ila Allah, wa Muhammad Rasul Allah. Hay al' Salaat. Hay' al Salaam. Allahu Akbar. Allahu Akbar, Arabic for 'God is greater (than anything) 4x, there's no God except for Allah and Muhammad is his prophet. Come to the prayer. Come to the salvation. God is greater 2x.'

hammam, Arabic for 'bath'


	7. Journey to the East

  
Author's notes:

I've finally updated . Translations en word explanations can be found at the bottom of the text. 

Thanks to my beta SolarisDay

* * *

In the stillness of a Mediterranean afternoon, an Algerian ship was setting course to Istanbul, the capital of the great Ottoman empire. On board the ship, leaning against a stack of wooden boxes placed on deck, sat Justin. Dressed only in a simple scarf wrapped around his slender hips and an iron collar, he gazed out to the blue sea. Next to him stood a little slave boy, carrying a parasol to shield Justin from the sun. The servant of the Dey had ordered the boy to follow Justin with the parasol everywhere he went, because they feared the sun would damage Justin's porcelain white skin. In the eyes of the slave traders a pale slave was much more exotic than a tanned one.

It was now precisely two weeks since Justin had departed from Algiers on the Dey's ship along with all the other gifts that were to be offered to the sultan. He had said goodbye to Dahab and knowing he would never see them again. Although he had only known them for a few weeks, he considered them good friends and was grateful for the kindness they had shown him. Dahab had been more like a mother to him then his own cold mother had ever been and Nadir had done his very best to help Justin adjust to his new status and lifestyle. 

On the day of Justin's departure the eunuch had told him to embrace his new future and to try and make the best of it. Nadir was convinced that Justin could become one of the sultan's  favourite concubines, if he used his extraordinary beauty and his charming nature to his advantage. The problem was that Justin didn't want to become the sultan's favourite. 

He desperately hoped for a way out of this horrible nightmare, but he also knew there was no chance of escape. Every day, every hour, every minute brought him closer to his new master, Brahim ibn Ali, Lord of life, _Zill' Allah_ , the most powerful sultan to rule the Ottoman empire in over two hundred years. Justin knew nothing about Sultan Brahim and was terrified he would not please the man, but even more terrified he would. Nadir had taught him to serve the sultan like one would serve a god, because in this part of the world Brahim indeed was considered a living god. 

The blond slave sighed. He could not bear to ponder his fate any longer. Just then, the boy at his side touched his arm and motioned for Justin to follow him below decks. With a deep sigh Justin stood up and followed him. It was time for another bath. Everyday he was bathed twice in a cabin that contained a large and rather luxurious bathtub. After his bath the servants of the day rubbed some kind of greasy oil on his body and removed every single trace of body hair. This procedure didn't embarrass Justin anymore, but he wished Nadir was the one giving him his massage. The eunuch had always told Justin long and entertaining stories during the bathing sessions. Now Justin was bathed by a bevy of loud chattering women, who treated him indifferently. 

After his bath Justin wanted to go on deck once more to watch the sunset, but one of the Dey's officials stopped him and informed him they were approaching Istanbul. Justin gasped and had to steady himself against the wall. He had arrived. 

 

_Zill' Allah_ : Shadow of Allah. The sultan was said to be the shadow of Allah on earth.


	8. The gift

  
Author's notes:

And here's another chapter to compensate for all those months without updates. Translations of Arabic words and word explanations can - as always- be found at the bottom of the text. Thanks to my wonderful beta SolarisDay.

I love to read your reviews, so please leave one!

* * *

In the late afternoon of a rather hot Thursday Sultan Brahim ibn Ali was holding court in the great halls of his _Topkapi_ palace. The sultan had spent the entire day in meetings with the _divan_ , and military training with the Janissares, his elite troops. At the moment the Ottoman Empire was not in a state of war, but after the recent trouble Brahim had in dealing with France, he thought it best to be prepared. 

After this long and tiring day Brahim wanted nothing more than to retreat to his private quarters. Unfortunately for him, today was the day of _al-Chmies_. Every Thursday the Sultan welcomed the representatives of his vassals who ruled the outskirts of the empire in his palace. 

These representatives always brought the most exquisite gifts as a token of their master's loyalty to the Sultan. In the past hour Brahim had already received more than a dozen Arabian pureblood horses, enough gold and silver artifacts to redecorate half of his palace and, of course, numerous slave girls for his harem.

 His governors and ambassadors seemed to think there was nothing that would make their lord happier than a new _odalisque_. Alas, Brahim didn't care for new slave girls as his harem was already crowded. Recently, he had started to marry some of the girls off to lower palace officials and important citizens of Istanbul. There was only one woman in his harem who could pride herself on being the sultan's concubine, his first _kadin_ Leyla. 

Brahim barely looked up when the _defterdar_ Mikal announced the representative of the Dey of Algiers.

 The man entered the hall, walked up to the Sultan's throne and bowed on one knee for Brahim. 

"May the blessings of Allah be with you, o noble and great ruler of the Ottoman Empire, supreme Sultan, Lord of life, _Zill'Allah_ , protector of the holy cities of Mecca, Medina and Jerusalem. I bring word from my master, Abdul As-Shafi'i, Dey of the city and the land of Algiers who rules by the mercy of his lord the Sultan. The Dey hopes this message finds you in good health and would like to offer you the following gifts, o mighty Sultan: one hundred marble pillars for your new palace at the shore of the Bosporus, fifty healthy and strong elephants, fifty horses bred in the Dey's stables and finally this very rare Sapphire." 

The representative finished his speech and Brahim acknowledged the gifts he had received, when he saw a man, probably a servant of the Dey, using a leash to lead a slave towards his throne. Brahim groaned inwardly. Another slave girl he didn't need or want in his palace. 

But when he raised his head to get a better look at the approaching slave, his mouth dropped open in surprise. A flat hairless chest, slender hips and a penis … not a slave girl, a boy! A beautiful, young slave boy with skin pale like ivory, silky blond hair that reached to his shoulders and piercing blue eyes. 

Brahim felt his cock stir at the sight presented before him. The guard let go of the leash and the boy prostrated himself at the foot of the sultan's throne. Now Brahim could admire the well-formed back of the slave and his appealing behind. The boy was a true beauty and all Brahim could think of was to take the slave in his arms and claim him right here in the middle of the hall. 

A discreet cough from Mikal disturbed these alarming thoughts and Brahim realised  he had been staring at the boy for at least several minutes. He could hear some muffled whispers amongst his courtiers and saw that some people were giving him calculating looks. 

The slave boy had raised his head and looked up to the Sultan with a frightened look in his eyes. It was only now that Brahim noticed how very young and scared the boy appeared to be.  

With a wave of his hand Brahim motioned for Mehmet to approach the throne so he could give the man his orders. "Mehmet, take this slave to the secluded part of the _seraglio_ and find someone who can speak his language, whatever it might be, and put him a bit at ease. Let him take a bath and prepare him for me. I will come and visit him later tonight." 

Mehmet managed to hide his surprise from his lord and walked over to Justin. He extended a hand to help the slave on his feet and led him out of the hall to the harem. When he had closed the door behind them, Mehmet addressed the boy. 

" _As-Salaam aleykum, tafhamu lu'ra arabiya_?" (1)

" _La afhamu arabiyya, ana Amarikani_ ," Justin replied. (2)

"English?" Mehmet asked with a rather heavy accent. 

" _Na'am_ (3), yes,"Justin nodded, relieved that yet again he had found someone who could talk to him in his native language. Nadir had taught him some Arabic, but he had not been able to make much progress in only a few weeks. 

Mehmet smiled and spoke again: "First _kadin_ of Sultan, _saida_ Leyla, she English … teaches me some words. She talk to you … me not good." 

"You will ask your lady Leyla to come and speak to me?" 

"Yes … yes, she talk about harem to you. Now follow me, we go to _seraglio_." 

Justin nodded and followed the flamboyant eunuch. He walked to the most luxuriously decorated corridors he had ever seen in his life until they reached the Gates of Felicity, the entrance to the harem. One of the palace guards opened the doors for Mehmet and Justin and they entered the Topkapi Serail, home of the Sultan's concubines. 

The doors closed behind Justin with a resounding slam and even though he was standing in a large room, it seemed to him that he was locked in a tiny prisoner cell with no way out. 

**notes** :

_Topkapi:_ the palace in Istanbul

_divan_ : the council of the sultan

_al-Chmies_ : the fifth day or Thursday. Arabs consider Sunday ( _al-Ahad_ ) as the first day of the week, so Thursday is in fact the fifth day.

_odalisque_ : harem girl

_kadin_ : wife of the sultan

_defterdar_ : minister of finances, advisor of the sultan

_Zill'Allah_ : shadow of Allah (see chapter 7)

Mecca, Medina and Jerusalem: the three holy cities of Islam. Mecca is the most important, because the _Ka'ba_ can be found in Mecca. Every year Muslims from all over the world travel to Mecca for the _Hajj_ , the pilgrimage. Mecca is also the city where the prophet Muhammad was born. Medina is the city where Muhammad ruled. In Jerusalem stood the _Al-Aqsa Mosque_.

_Seraglio_ : harem

(1) Hello, do you understand Arabic?

(2) No, I don't, I'm from America.

(3) Yes

_saida:_ lady


	9. A Harem Night

  
Author's notes:

Finally another update. Thank you for you patience and as always, thanks to my beta Solaris Day. 

Explanation and translations can be found at the bottom of the text.

Please leave a review!

* * *

 

 

As Mehmet was leading the new _odalisque_ into the _seraglio_ , he took the time to take a closer look at this new acquisition for the sultan's harem. The boy was absolutely stunning, that he had to admit. Never in his life had Mehmet seen a slave with skin this pale. His silky blond hair seemed to beg for a caress. His piercing eyes were more blue than the water of the Bosporus. Sapphire was truly an excellent name for this exquisite creature.

 

Alas, the beauty of the boy was overshadowed by his grief and his fear. Mehmet could sense that the slave was barely holding it together. The sooner he could entrust him to the care of Lady Leyla the better.

 

The _Kizlar Agasi_ brought Justin to a secluded area of the _seraglio_ , where no other _odalisques_ were allowed. He showed the boy to a comfortable room and told him to wait for his return. Then Mehmet hurried to the main room of the _seraglio_ , in order to find _saida_ Leyla. When he reached her, he explained the situation to her. She agreed to accompany him immediately.

 

Seated on an elegant ottoman canapé, Justin startled when the door of the private room opened and Mehmet walked in, followed by the most elegant woman Justin had ever seen.

 

'Good afternoon. I'm Leyla, the first wife of the sultan. I welcome you to the _Topkapi Serail_ , the heart of the Ottoman Empire,' Leyla greeted Justin.

 

Forgetting the traditional greetings he had learned from Nadir, Justin bowed for the wife of his new master. 

 

'I understand your name is Sapphire, but surely you have another, more English name?' she asked.

 

'Yes, my lady, my name is … was Justin, Justin Taylor from Pittsburgh.'

 

'Ah, American. I'm British. In another lifetime, long ago, I was Lindsey Peterson, daughter of the British ambassador in Russia,' Leyla said with a sad little smile on her face.

 

'My lady, please … please, help me. I do not belong here. Please, let me write a letter to my father so that he can pay money for my release. Please, ask your husband to let me go. I'm not what he wants,' Justin pleaded.

 

'I would not be so sure of that, my dear boy. You could very well be exactly what he needs. As for your request, I'm very sorry, but I can not do that, Justin. You see, I may be the first wife of the sultan, his favourite concubine, but in reality I'm just a slave like you and like the thousand other _odalisques_ in the _seraglio_.' 

 

Leyla walked over to a small window in the corner of the room and motioned for Justin to come closer.

 

'Look Justin, this is your life now.'

 

Justin peeped trough the window. He gasped when he saw a great hal beneath him, filled with women, all sorts of women: young and very beautiful, old and wrinkled, skinny or rather plump… They all had little clothes on, but did not seem upset about that fact. When he looked closer, he could see them laughing, chattering and smiling. To any other man the sight presented before him would be heaven, but for Justin it was hell. He felt his chest tighten when he thought about living together with all these women, doing nothing waiting for a master who could very well never call for them. 

 

'Try to accept it, Justin. It's not so bad, once you've got used to it.'

 

'Please, my lady, I can't … I can't do this. Is there no way for you to help me?'

 

With a sigh Leyla answered. 'No, my dear, I'm sorry. I would help you, if I could. Don't be afraid of this life, but try to make the best of it.'

 

'That's what Nadir would have said, but I don't know if I can do it, My lady.'

 

'Nadir?' Leyla asked with her gentle voice.

 

'Yes, the eunuch of the harem in Algiers, where I was sold. He tried to prepare me for a life as a concubine.' And so, the next hour Justin told Leyla everything about his home in Pittsburgh, his abusive father, the attack of the pirates and the time he spent in the harem of the Dey. Leyla listened intently. It was obviously that it was the first time that the boy was able to tell his story to someone.

 

They were interrupted by Mehmet.

 

'My lady, I'm sorry to disturb, but we need to prepare Sapphire for the evening. The sultan wants to see him tonight.'

 

'Yes, of course, Mehmet. Justin, try not to be afraid tonight. Our lord is not a cruel man and if you adhere to Nadir's lessons, everything will be fine.' Leyla stood and gave Justin a little kiss on his forehead before she left the room.

 

After his bath and a massage, Justin was led into a magnificent room, decorated with artifacts of silver and gold. Mehmet told Justin to wait for the arrival of the sultan. After reminding the new slave to pay heed to his master's every wish, the _Kizlar Agasi_ left the room. Justin remained standing, frozen in fear. In a few moments Brahim ibn Ali would walk into this room and Justin didn't even want to think about the things his 'master' might wish for. 

 

His new life, the status of a slave… it had all seemed so unreal untill now. He had been taught how to kneel, how to greet and how to speak as a slave, but he had not been prepared for this feeling. Now everything was real, he could no longer pretend this was just a nightmare. It was only now that he understood fully what it meant to lose his freedom, to have no rights, to be a thing. This realisation made him … angry. What right did these people have to treat him like an animal, what right did this Turkish dictator have to make him into his living doll? No right, no right whatsoever.

 

Suddenly, the doors opened and Sultan Brahim ibn Ali entered in all his splendour. Dressed in a black caftan with loose black pants underneath he was the epitome of male domination and arrogance. 

 

Justin knew that he should greet this man properly and then fall to the ground at his feet, but he didn't. Proudly and with a strength he didn't even know he possessed, he stood before the sultan, meeting his gaze with his sapphire eyes.

 

'Slave, have you not learned how to greet your master in a proper manner? On your knees, now!' Brahim shouted, surprised that this boy chose to defy him. Mehmet had told him the slave came from the colonies, so he had addressed the boy in English. He must have understood what Brahim said.

 

Justin's answer was brief. 'No!'

 

'How dare you, boy! I'm your master, you belong to me and you'll show me some respect.'

 

'I don't belong to you. You can't take my freedom from me and you have no right to treat me like this.'

 

The sultan bristled with anger. 'No right! I'll show you what rights I have, slave.'

 

Brahim crossed the room with a few steps, ready to grab this impertinent slave, but Justin ducked and managed to run to the far end of the room. But Brahim, being a very fit man, turned quickly, went after Justin and was able to corner him against the wall. He grabbed Justin's wrist and dragged him along to the large bed in the middle of the room. Justin tried to struggle himself free, but to no avail. The sultan was much to strong for him.

 

Brahim was determined to teach this disobedient creature a lesson. He sat down on the bed and pulled Justin over his lap. With one swift movement he shove the loose harem pants the boy was wearing down and smacked him on his bottom with the palm of his hand. 

 

Justin yelped in surprise. A spanking? The great leader of the Eastern world was giving him a spanking? Justin would have laughed at the absurdity of the situation, but the fact was that this spanking hurt, since the sultan was hitting him really hard. The smacks kept landing on his bottom and Justin could no longer hide his agony. He cried out in pain, but Brahim paid no attention to his cries and continued his assault on Justin’s buttocks. 

 

After a while the boy's cries changed to quiet sobbing. Brahim was still spanking him, but the sobbing took away a lot of the sultan's anger. 

 

Brahim looked down at the boy on his lap and felt pity for him. His first night in what must be frightening surroundings, not used to living the life of a slave. Brahim didn't have much experience with disobedient slaves, because all the women that had come to his bed had been very willing. He couldn't even begin to imagine what it must be like to lose your freedom and become another man's possession. Could he bear that? He doubted it, he would fight it with all the strength left in him and die if there was no possibility to escape. The boy had showed some real courage in standing up to him and refusing to accept his new status. And what did he do … act like an offended owner and punish the boy at the first sign of resistance. Perhaps he had been too hard on him.

 

With a small shock he realised that he had stopped spanking the slave and was drawing soothing circles on the sobbing boy's back with his fingers. Justin hiccupped in confusion. He didn't understand this man and this rapid change from punishment to comfort. He raised his head to look at the sultan.

 

'Look, boy, we seemed to have started off on the wrong foot. I … I guess I overreacted and it was wrong of me to do so.' Brahim said, while he helped Justin back on his feet.

 

'You're … apologising …to me? You could have …killed me for what I said and now you apologise for giving me a spanking?' Justin asked in confusion.

 

'Well yes, I suppose I do,' the sultan answered, looking a bit surprised himself.

 

Justin stared at the man before him with his mouth wide open in shock. He couldn't quite fathom everything that had happened. Somehow he, little Justin Taylor, afraid to defy his father, had found the courage to face this very powerful and virile man. He had expected the sultan to call his guards and give the order that Justin should die a very painful death. Instead, the sultan had taken him over his knee like a naughty child and was now apologising to him for overreacting. 

 

Brahim could see that the boy was very confused.

 

'Boy … Sapphire? That's your name?'

 

The question snapped Justin out of his thoughts.

 

'Euhm, yes … I mean … that's my slave name. They used to call me Justin, before …' Justin didn't bother to complete his sentence.

 

'But you obviously prefer your former name?' 

 

'Yes, I do. Sapphire is too exotic, it … it isn't me.' Justin replied.

 

'Then I shall call you Justin when we're in private, although I think that Sapphire suits you very well.'

 

Justin just nodded.

 

'Justin, I must tell you that if any other slave had acted like you just did in my presence, he or she would have been executed right away. If any of my officials had witnessed your rebellious behaviour, I would have been forced to have you killed  in order to confirm my authority. You can thank Allah that you postponed your reckless behaviour until we were alone. Had you not, you would be dead already.'

 

On hearing these words, Justin went pale. Brahim continued.

 

'However, I think it was very courageous to act like you did and I can't help but admire you because of it. But don't think I will be so lenient the next time. I might be nice to you now, but the fact remains that you are my slave and I'm your master. I won't set you free and I demand that you submit to me and obey my every command.'

 

Justin remained silent for a long time. He looked at the sultan and knew that further resistance would be futile. With an aching pain in his heart he realised that he would have to choose now: give up his freedom and submit or die. He wasn't ready to die, he did not want to die. Now that he realised how close he had been to death just a few minutes ago and how close he still was, he was terrified. So there was only one option. 

 

He extended his hand in the direction of the sultan in the traditional greeting and dropped to the floor in one fluid motion. 

 

'You may rise … slave.'

 

Justin stood up but kept his head down, until his chin was lifted gently by the strong hand of the sultan.

 

'Justin, you did well. Now come sit down with me, so we can talk a bit. I would like to learn more about you.'

 

'As you wish …' Justin closed his eyes, swallowed and added, ' … master.'

 

The next hour they talked about Justin's life in America. Brahim asked him about the political situation in North America, about the landscape and nature in his hometown and encouraged Justin to tell him what he thought of the Middle East. Justin's answered were short but polite in the beginning but when he realised the sultan 's interest in his life was genuine, he became more open. 

 

'Now, Justin, I asked you a lot of questions about you and your life. Is there anything you want to ask me?'

 

Justin hesitated.

 

'Yes … I mean, yes, master, I would like to know what it is you expect of me.' 

 

'What I expect? A lot, Justin, to be honest. But I now realise that you're not ready to give me what I want. Tell me, did your harem education include the specific tasks of an odalisque that has gained the favour of the sultan?'

 

The boy blushed. 

 

'Yes master, but I haven't the faintest idea how I should fulfill them. I'm not a girl!'

 

'And I'm glad you're not. But you don't have to be a woman to give pleasure to a man. A man can do it to. Listen, you need some time to settle in the harem and to become acquainted with your new life. I won't ask anything of you yet, but you will come to my quarters every night so we can spend some time together. Don't be afraid. I promise you nothing will happen as long as you're not ready.'

 

Justin was relieved that he wouldn't have to do anything yet. However, he knew this was just a momentary delay. Eventually he would have to fulfill all the duties of a pleasure slave.

 

'I will order Mehmet to let you stay in the secluded part of the harem. You will get your own eunuch, masseuse and servants to tend to you. During the day you'll continue your education in Arabic, Islam and the duties of an _odalisque_. The evenings you'll spend here with me. Clear?'

 

'Yes master, very clear.'

 

'Now then, perhaps I should ask Mehmet to fetch some salve for your bottom. I imagine it is rather sore.'

 

'It is, thank you, master.' 

 

Justin tried not to think about the lecture he would undoubtedly receive from Mehmet or Leyla or both of them. Suddenly he felt very tired and longed for a bed and the sleep that would make him forget everything.

 

'You're exhausted, Justin. We will continue our conversation tomorrow. Rest now.'

 

Brahim pulled the boy closer and held him in his arms. He felt how Justin stiffened and just gave him a quick kiss on his forehead. Justin relaxed visibly and even managed to give Brahim a weak little smile. 

 

The sultan escorted his new _odalisque_ to the door and ordered the guards to take him to his rooms. Mehmet, who had been standing in the corridor, rushed over to Justin with a very worried look in his eyes. He looked at Brahim in confusion.

 

'Mehmet, take the boy to the chambers for the _iqbal_. He has gained my favour and will be treated with the utmost care. Make sure he has everything he needs and tend to his backside.'

 

'Yes, mylord, but … how … did the boy …?'

 

'He disobeyed me, I punished him. We'll discuss this further in the morning.'

 

'As you wish, my lord.'

 

Brahim closed to the door and prepared for bed, but didn't fall asleep for a long time. It was strange: he should have worried about the political situation in the east of the empire and the Janissares, but could only think about the little smile his new slave had given him before he left.

 

 

 

 

 

 

_odalisque_ : harem slave

 

_seraglio_ : name of the harem in the palace of Topkapi

 

_Kizlar Agasi_ : White chief eunuch

 

_saida_ : lady

 

_iqbal:_ a concubine who has gained the favour of the sultan, but is not (yet) his wife.


	10. Everyday Life in the Topkapi Serail

  
Author's notes:

Finally another update! Thanks to my beta SolarisDay. I couldn't write this story without her.

This chapter is a bit special to me, since I added an original character, a bellydancer and I wrote some bellydance scenes. I have to warn you that these scenes are not historically correct. We all know the stereotype of the scantily dressed harem girl, dancing in front of her master. In reality bellydancers did not perform for the sultan in order to gain his favour, but for each other and the other women in the harem. Dancing was considered harem entertainment. 

So why did I add the bellydance scenes? Because I'm an avid bellydancer myself and I spend hours a week in training and classes. I simply couldn't write a story about the Middle East without a bellydancer in it. So I'm just being selfish really!

Please leave a review. I like to know what you think about the story and it encourages me to write more. 

 

* * *

And so began Justin's life as a harem odalisque in service of the sultan.

He had been very relieved when Mehmet had told him that he did not have to live in the main area of the _seraglio_ but in a smaller secluded part of the harem. The _Kizlar Agasi_ had decided not to confront the boy with the other inhabitants of the harem and made sure that only a few selected servants came in contact with him on a daily basis. 

After that first dreadful night Mehmet and Leyla had given him a stern lecture and he had to promise them never to repeat "this foolish behaviour". According to the sultan's command, Mehmet had tended to Justin's sore backside. Never in his life, not even when he had been sold like a piece of meat on the slave market in Algiers, had Justin felt so ashamed. The eunuch had assured him that he had been very lucky and had then proceeded to tell Justin exactly what had happened with disobedient slaves under the rule of Brahim's father. After hearing those atrocious stories Justin had been violently ill, because he realised just how close to death he had been. When a slave or an _odalisque_ was disobedient, he or she could be drowned in the Bosporus, beaten to death with a whip or thrown on iron spears and left there to rot. A sore bum might be unpleasant, but it certainly was nothing compared to the punishments Mehmet had described.

The first few days Justin felt very lost in his new home. He found it very difficult to adjust to the slow and tedious rhythm of Eastern life: bath, meal, lessons, bath again, prayers … again and again. The lessons in Arabic language and Islam were fairly interesting, but Justin detested the bathing and shaving, two times a day. Fortunately Mehmet had sent him a very nice and friendly African servant girl with the name Daphne. It was her duty to attend him while he was bathing and to give him a massage afterwards. She didn't speak English, but Justin could understand her well enough if she talked slowly. Soon they became friends and very often the _hamam_ was filled with their laughter.

Every evening Justin was summoned to the quarters of the Sultan to spend a few hours there. In the beginning he had been very nervous whenever he was in the presence of Brahim, but the Sultan was always nice to him. They talked about life in general, about politics and art, which was Justin's favourite subject of conversation. When Brahim had learned that Justin loved art, he had shown him the immense picture gallery of the _Topkapi Serail_. Justin looked in awe at the art painted by some of the greatest artists in the world. The Sultan had told him he could visit the gallery as often as he liked, as long as he was accompanied by an escort.

Slowly Justin learned to appreciate the Sultan, but he never made the mistake of forgetting that this man was above everything his master. Anxiously he waited for the day that the Sultan would demand more of him than entertaining talks and agreeable company. 

One day Justin was studying the _Qur'an_ in his apartment when the door opened and a girl came in. She was dressed in a short top that left her belly bare and a long and wide skirt. Around her hips she had wrapped a scarf, ornamented with little bells and pearls. Behind her stood three other women, each carrying an instrument: a drum, a flute and something that looked like a small harp. 

The girl extended her arm in the traditional greeting and bowed. 

"Bless you, Sapphire. My name is _Anadil_ and I am the lead dancer of the harem. Our master, may Allah give him strength, is very fond of dancing and has expressed the wish to see you dance. He won't force you to do so, but it would please him if you would."

Justin's eyed widened in surprise. Dance? He had learned to dance a little in Pittsburgh, but somehow he doubted that a waltz or a quadrille was what this girl had in mind. Still, if the Sultan wanted him to dance, he could at least try. 

"I'm afraid that I don't know how to dance. I mean, I known some of the Western dances, but I'm not very good at it. And I know absolutely nothing about Eastern dances."

Anadil laughed.

"Not to worry, I will teach you everything, if you are willing to learn. I know some of the European dances too, since the late _Valide_ was French and she insisted on having the dancing girls instructed in Western dance. I was very young when she died, but I still remember. Now, perhaps I could show you our way of dancing."

She clapped her hands and a soft melodious tune filled the room. Very gently Anadil's body began to sway. Her belly and chest undulated to the tune of the music, while her arms and hands make snake-like movements in the air. It was enchanting. Then, with a sharp tack, the rhythm changed, and the drum took over. The dancer's hips vibrated, faster and faster. Her body followed every tack and seemed to anticipate the drummer's movements. When the music slowed down, Anadil tossed her long hair backwards and ended the dance with a spin.

Justin applauded loudly.

"That was amazing. How can you move like that? It seemed like your hips, your chest and your shoulders were detached from the rest of you body. I could never do that."

The girl gave him a little wink and answered.

"We will see about that."

She did. Every afternoon Anadil came to his apartment and they danced for more than three hours. She taught him about the different rhythms, showed him steps in a 1001 variations and helped him to isolate his different body parts. Justin's body ached in places it had never ached before, but he enjoyed the dance and his new friendship with Anadil.

One evening the dancing lesson was running late when Justin was called to the sultan. Still flushed from the exercise and clad only in flimsy white harem pants hanging low on his hips, Justin entered his master's room and dropped to the floor to greet him.

Brahim was still busy shedding his official robes and distractedly told the boy to rise. When he finally turned to look at his slave, his mouth dropped open at the sight presented before him. The boy looked positively edible. Since that first night Brahim hadn't touched Justin, but had struggled every night to control himself in the presence of the frightened boy, not giving in to the temptation. This night however, he lost his control.

In two strides he was directly in front of the boy. With one hand he caressed the silky blond hair, while his other hand grabbed Justin's neck gently but firmly to bring him closer for a kiss. He was about to take possession of the boy's mouth, when he felt Justin stiffen and take a little step backwards. Brahim released the boy immediately.

Justin was totally confused.  The minute he had seen the hunger in his master's eyes, he had known that the moment he had dreaded so had finally arrived. He was not going to resist the sultan, but had instinctively taken a step backwards. His eyes widened in shock when he realised that the sultan would certainly take his reaction for a refusal. Instantly he dropped to his knees and addressed Brahim.

"Please master. I'm sorry. Honestly, I didn't mean to fight you … I was frightened. It all happened so quickly and I was startled and …"

"Hush. On your feet, Justin. I'm not angry with you, merely disappointed. You will not be punished for this, so do not be afraid." 

Brahim sighed and motioned for the panicking boy to come and sit down next to him. Justin obeyed quickly.

"Justin, I gave you adequate time to adjust to your new life before I demanded any duties as an odalisque of you. I hoped you would not feel afraid in my presence anymore, but clearly that is not the case. Tell me, why do I frighten you so much?"

Justin struggled to find the right words.

"I fear the power you have over me, the fact that you can have me killed with just one wave of your hand, but above all I fear what it is you expect of me. This is all so very confusing. All my life people have told me that I was good for nothing, they called me …"

Brahim gave a small nod of encouragement.

" … a sissy boy. My own father told me repeatedly that I looked and acted like a girl in boy's clothing. I was never good enough, could never live up to his expectations. And now … now I'm expected to be everything my father despises. I am expected to please you, although I don't have the faintest idea how. How could anyone as pathetic and ugly as me please you, a great ruler? I do not know how and …"

Justin stopped talking when he felt Brahim's finger against his lips.

"Hush Justin, you are truly remarkable. Never in my life have I seen anyone as beautiful as you. Do you not realise that the last two months have been torture for me? You have been so close to me, but I have not touched you because you were not ready. I will not wait much longer, _habibi_. Soon, very soon I will take you to my bed. I don't want to hurt you, but that will only work when you do not fear me. Tell me, _azizi_ , do you find me repulsive?"

"Oh, oh no master. Never!  In fact …"

Justin blushed a deep red. Brahim moved a bit closer to Justin, so the boy was leaning against him.

"Yes?"

"… I think you are … very handsome."

Justin could feel Brahim's stomach muscles contract when the man laughed.

"By Allah. You are truly delectable, my own. I believe there is some hope left for the two of us after all."

Brahim turned Justin in his arms so he could look the boy in the eye.

"Let us try this again, shall we."

And with that, he lowered his head to kiss the boy. When Justin felt Brahim'"s lips on his own, he didn't stiffen but welcomed the kiss. He could feel the sultan's tongue licking his lips so he opened his mouth. When the kiss deepened, Justin felt his heart flutter. He blushed when he felt some other parts of his body responding too. 

All too soon Brahim ended the kiss. 

"Well, my little Sapphire, you have truly pleased me, but I fear that if I do not let you return to your chambers now, I will ravish you on the floor."

Justin stood, embarrassed because the flimsy pants clearly showed his erection. When the Sultan noticed he didn't say anything, but gave him a smirk and something that could only be interpreted as a dirty little wink. Justin all but fled the room.

The next day Justin couldn't stop thinking about the kiss. He failed to pay attention in his _Qur'an_ class, which made the _imam_ rather irritated. When it was time for his dancing classes, Justin couldn't manage even the most simple steps and stumbled a bit, until Anadil finally had enough.

"Right! What is wrong with you today? We might as well stop training, because you're obviously not in the mood."

She addressed the musicians.

" _Hadihi nihaya al-dars. Bi'imkanikuna an takhrujna._ "

She sent them off with a wave of her hand.

"Well, are you going to tell me what is wrong?" she demanded. 

Justin sighed and decided he could really use some advice.

"He kissed me."

"Ah … and?"

"And … I liked it. But that doesn't mean anything, does it? He said he would take me to his bed very soon and that frightens me. He is used to having very experienced pleasure slaves in his bed, not scared little virgins. What will he want? I … I think I know what it is that two men can do together if they are … you know, but I don't know if I can do that. Surely it will hurt, surely …"

"Justin, stop! You need to relax. Breathe!"

Justin complied and Anadil pushed him down into a pile of soft cushions, before sitting down next to him gracefully.

"That's better. Now, I'm going to tell you everything I know and you are not going to be embarrassed to ask me everything you need to know. Understood?"

"Everything you know? You mean you had … intercourse with the Sultan?"

Anadil laughed when she saw the surprised look in her friend's eyes.

"Oh, yes I did. And more than once. You see, Justin, I'm convinced that our lord does not like women very much, but he does like dancing. About once a month he used to summon me and order me to dance for him. Afterwards he usually took me to his bed. I never made much fuss about it. Mehmet knows but I have never been awarded the title of _iqbal_ , because I simply am not. Instead I became the lead dancer, a position that gives me a little freedom and lots of happiness."

"But … do you not hate me?" Justin sputtered. "After all I'm a threat to your position."

"To what position? My position in my master's bed was never a permanent one and with all due respect, I don't think you pose a threat to my position as lead dancer … yet. Honestly, Justin, I don't like all those harem politics and intrigues."

"Did you like it … being called to his bed?"

"Yes. Yes, I did. He is a very generous lover and he never hurt me or at least … not more than was necessary."

"But … you're a girl. It's different. Nadir and Mehmet both told me that when the Sultan wants to … use me, he will … well, he will stick his … member in my …. and well, that has to hurt, surely!", Justin spluttered.

"It hurts, but the pain passes quickly enough."

Justin's mouth opened wide in surprise.

"What … what! You did that? Did he force you?"

"Yes, I did that. Our lord preferred to take me that way, and I didn't object. The first time I was a bit apprehensive, but he was very careful. At the end he asked me if I hated it and assured me I would not have to do it again if I had. We did it again many times."

Justin did not look convinced so she continued.

"Justin please, stop thinking about being intimate with the sultan as "him using you" and "forcing you to do things". Stop convincing yourself that you're incompetent and that he will find pleasure in hurting you, because you're not and he won't. You like him, Justin, and I know you find him attractive. Focus on that. Don't just see him as your master, but as a terribly handsome man who is eager to make love to you. Forget for a moment that you are a concubine and just be yourself."

Sighing Justin replied.

"I can try, I guess."

"Yes, you can. Now, I will take my leave and when I come back tomorrow you'd better be ready for some serious training."

"Yes, ma'am."

Anadil kissed Justin on the cheek before she left the room, her hips swaying as she walked.

Justin thought about what she had said. Maybe it was time to stop worrying so much about the sultan. It could be refreshing, not having to be Justin Taylor, proud heir of the Taylor estate or Sapphire, exquisite pleasure slave but to just be himself. Just be.

***********************  

_Anadil_ : Arabic for "nightingale"

_Habibi_ : "my love"

_Azizi_ : "my dear, my darling"

_Hadihi nihaya al-dars. Bi"imkanikuna an takhrujna_ : "The lesson ends here. You may leave."


	11. Disobedience

  
Author's notes:

Hi everyone, 

Sorry for the delay in posting this chapter. I'm not giving up on this story. Thank you for your e-mails and kind reviews. Thanks to my beta Netlagd for being so kind to correct this chapter. I really appreciate it. 

Explanations and translations can be found at the bottom of the text. Anadil's dance costume is actually one of my own bellydance costumes. 

Please leave a review! It would make me verry happy

ma'a salama, 

Zahar

* * *

Justin remained in his rooms for the rest of the afternoon, thinking about everything Anadil had said and wondering if it would be so bad to give in. For the first time since he had entered the _Topkapi Serail_ through the _Gates of Felicity_ he tried to think like a true odalisque. 

 

He was high in the sultan’s favour and could easily become the first among the _ikbals_. The only thing he had to do was to go willingly to his master’s bed. A month ago Justin had thought he would never be able to do that, but now he was not so sure anymore. He had to admit that Brahim was a very attractive man and when he remembered their kiss on the previous night, he felt his cock stirr just a little bit. 

 

Justin honestly didn’t know how to react to these new sensations. Giving into them meant leaving the memories of his previous life behind. However, everytime he thought about becoming the sultan’s concubine, Justin pictured his father’s face.  Craig Taylor would be horrified at the sight of his son in the arms of another man..  Justin knew that his father would prefer a dead son to a living son serving as a loveslave of the most powerful man of the Middle-East. 

  In frustation Justin flung a pillow off the bed against the opposite wall. He walked to the window overseeing the great hall of the _Seraglio_. Justin looked down at all the women gathered there. They wouldn’t hesitate for a second if they were in his position. A place in the sultan’s bed meant privileges, precious jewelry and clothes, and having more freedom than the other girls. Was he so different just because he was a man? Maybe he shouldn’t even think of himself as a man anymore. Since he had been taken prisoner by the pirates, nobody had treated him like one. They hadn’t made a eunuch out of him.  But, in every other aspect he had become a sexless thing.  Not a women but certainly not a man either. Justin wondered if he had ever been a real man, a man like his father had wanted him to be. Ever since he was a small child Craig Taylor had reproached his son that he was too soft, too feminine, too weak. Justin had tried to live up to his father’s expectations, but had failed.

Perhaps, Justin thought with sad resignation, he should let go of his father’s standards and start thinking about his new life as a permanent one. The chance that he would ever leave the harem was very small. If he remained in the sultan’s favour, he would have a rather agreeable life, but if he lost his position, who knew what was in store for him then?

 

There was only one way to secure his position in the harem and that was to become a real concubine. Not only did he have to be ready for the sultan’s bed, but he had to start seeing Brahim as his true master, master of his body and of his heart. 

 

After this startling realisation Justin began to prepare himself for his evening with the sultan. As he stood in front of the large armoire containing his clothes, unable to decide what to wear, Mehmet entered the room. 

 

“ _Masa al-chair_ , Sapphire, your presence will not be required in the sultan’s chambers tonight. Our lord has received an reports with disturbing news about the situation at the northern borders of the empire. He has left Istanbul immediately.”

 

Justin ’s shoulders sagged in disappointment. 

 

“When will he come back?”

 

Mehmet gave the slave boy a little smile.

 

“We don’t know, Sapphire. When the situation at the borders is stable again, I presume. Do not fret, little one. I’m certain that the sultan will not leave the capital and the _divan_ alone for too long a time. He has given me a message for you.”

 

The _kizlar agasi_ took a little scroll out of his kaftan and handed it to Justin. Justin unfolded the note and read.

  ** _Habibi,_** ** _When you read this, I will have left the palace and the city. I’m taking the sweet memory of last night with me. You belong in my arms, slave of my heart. I hope you see that now. Behave like a worthy odalisque in my absence._**

**_Sultan Brahim_ **

 

Justin did not know how to react to the letter. He was sad, excited, angry and – he realised now – completely in love with the sultan. He felt torn by all these different feelings. How could he be in love with a man who addressed him as a slave? How could he be angry when all he wanted was to be with the sultan right no? On the other hand, he was not pleased with the warning he had received. It was as if the sultan feared that Justin would behave like a little child the moment he turned his back on him.

 

Mehmet wished Justin a good night and left the room. Again Justin was alone in the room, feeling rather confused. He had to admit that he would miss the sultan. In the past few weeks he got used to spending every evening in the frightening but interesting company of his master. The sultan had just left the palace and already Justin felt a bit lonely. 

 

The next month seemed to pass very slowly. The whole _Seraglio_ seemed to be affected by the absence of the sultan. Live in the harem became duller because every inhabitant of the _Seraglio_ was waiting anxiously for the sultan to return. Justin went trough his daily routine of studying, bathing and dancing. But, he didn’t enjoy his conversations with Daphne and Anadil like he usually did. The evenings he spent alone, in his private rooms in the harem, gazing down at the odalisques in the great hall.  He felt every bit the outsider he still was in this harem.

 

Finally, after more than five weeks Mehmet received a message from the sultan. The problems at the border were solved. The sultan was on his way to Istanbul, but he would not be able to return to the _Topkapi Serail_ immediately. The German ambassador, Herr Theodor Schmidt, had arrived in Izmir. The sultan would go and meet him there before travelling to Istanbul in the company of Herr Schmidt. The ambassador had come to the Ottoman Empire to sign a treaty between the German and the Ottoman empire.

 The moment Mehmet announced this news to the harem, cheering and laughter could be heard in the _Seraglio_ for the first time since the departure of the sultan. Sultan Brahim might not care a lot about the ladies in his harem, but a harem without its master was like a ship without a cargo. A waste of space, as Craig Taylor would have said. The next day Anadil barged into Justin’s room holding a letter in her hand. She had received orders from the _defterdar_ Mikal, who had left the palace together with the sultan. A welcoming feast had to be held in honor of the German ambassador. Surprisingly, the sultan wanted this to be a small private party. Therefore servants had immediately started to prepare the topaze room, a medium sized ballroom situated next to the entrance of the harem. The _defterdar_ had also announced that the sultan expected some light entertainment. Anadil was asked to perform a couple of solo dances and one duet, together with Justin. 

Justin was horrified. The last thing he wanted to do was to dance in front of a Western diplomat, a man that could have been his equal. How could Brahim do this to him? Anadil didn’t notice Justin’s discomfort as she was to busy selecting a choreography for their duet. 

 The next days did nothing to take away his anger and sadness. Justin heard that the sultan and the German ambassador had arrived in the palace, but received no message from Brahim. Nor had he received an invitation to spend an evening in the sultan’s quarters. He became more and more convinced that the sultan did not really care for his feelings but saw him only as a pleasant distraction. If the sultan truly cared, he would never force Justin to dance in public and certainly not in the presence of a man of his own world. It was the ultimate humiliation.  On the day of the welcoming feast, Justin and Anadil rehearsed their choreography the whole day, untill Anadil was finally satisfied. Then Mehmet came with his entourage of bathing girls to prepare Justin for the coming evening. He would dance dressed in full black harem pants, with a black bolero, embroidered with silver paterns. Around his hips he wore a silver chain belt with little coins.

 

When Justin was ready, Mehmet took a moment to inspect the blonde slave and he had to admit that the boy looked etherally beautiful, even more so than at the moment of his arrival in the harem. The _kizlar agasi_ took Justin to the topaze room and couldn’t help noticing that the boy was very quiet and seemed rather edgy. He passed it off as nerves and brought Justin to the antichambre where Anadil was already waiting. She looked splendid in her black chiffon dance costume, also embroidered with a silver design. Her breasts were held in a silver coin bra and in her hair she wore a pin encrusted with little diamonds. Together Anadil and Justin formed a magnificent pair.

 The antichambre was separated from the hall by a large velvet curtain, so Justin couldn’t see Brahim or Herr Schmidt. This made him feel even more uncomfortable. He felt so unprepared for his reunion with the man who was his master, his owner. The man who had the power to make him do this. Justin wanted to run away from this horrible evening, this suffocating room but most of all from the feeling of betrayal he felt inside him. He had allowed himself to fall in love with Brahim and that had turned out to be a dreadful mistake. His master would never return those feelings, because he saw Justin as a thing he could parade around.  

The longer Justin had to wait, the more frustrated he became. He was angry at the sultan for treating him like a toy, angry at the German ambassador for being there and angry or rather  completely furious at himself because of his behavior the last months. Why had he allowed himself to become emotionally attached to his captor, his nemesis? 

 

Finally the music Anadil had chosen filled the room. Mehmet held the curtain open and Anadil danced to the middle of the topaze room with quick travelling steps. With a turn she halted in front of the throne where the sultan sat. Herr Schmidt was seated next to him. A series of sharp accents in the music concluded the intro and the _oud_ took over. Anadil’s body began to sway and her arms went up. She brought up one hand behind her head while she let her belly vibrate. With a sensual smile she extended the other arm in the direction of the curtain and made an inviting gesture towards Justin. He advanced slowly and gracefully, making snake arms in the air. When he reached the place Anadil was dancing, the music changed and grew louder in a sweet rhythmic beat. Justin and Anadil turned and each faced another part of the hall. The coins on their costumes glinted beautifully in the firelight of the torches. They began to dance the same combinations. Anadil with soft feminine movements, pushing her body to its limits in endless undulations. Justin was more rigid, but not too stiff. He excelled in the sharp hip drops following the rhythme of the _tabla_. 

 

Though they danced the same choreography, Justin and Anadil performed very differently. Anadil, who was an experienced dancer, smiled enticingly to her audience. She was obviously enjoying every moment of the dance. Justin on the other hand did not smile. His face was blank and there was no emotion in his eyes. It was as if he had shut out everyone and everything and was just dancing for himself. 

 

When the music reached its finale, Anadil and Justin moved back in front of the throne. As the melody swirled to a climax, the dancers spun whirling in a jangle of coins and fell simultaneously to the floor, when the music suddenly stopped. 

 

A resounding round of applause errupted troughout the ballroom. When Justin lifted his face he could see the sultan smiling with approval.  Herr Schmidt was clapping enthousiastically and couldn’t keep his eyes off Anadil. Brahim gestured for them to stand up. 

 

“Honoured guests, _Saidi_ Schmidt, I hope you all have enjoyed this marvelous piece of entertaining.”

 

Herr Schmidt answered, raising his voice in the now silent room.

 

“Your majesty, it was a delight. I am afraid that your dancing girl has enchanted me. However I am curious about the ethnic origin of the boy. Is he _Caucasian_ or _Circassian_ or ... ? He danced beautifuly, I presume he is one of the true jewels of your harem.”

 Before the sultan could reply, Justin spoke in a contemptuous manner. “ I, Sir, come from the Colonies and before I was captured by pirates and brought to this place, I was a free citizen. Now I am just a pet for him to play with. If I were you, I would leave this palace at once, before our Great lord decides he wants another white male in his harem.” 

The silence in the room was deafening. The German ambassador gasped and everyone in the hall seemed stunned. Anadil had fallen on her knees and opened her eyes in horror. Justin had done the unthinkable. He had defied and offended the Lord of life, the Grand Turk, Allah‘s representative on earth. 

 

The sultan leapt to his feet and shouted outraged.

 

“How dare you speak to me and my guests in this manner. Guards, remove this creature from my sight. I will deal with him later.”

 

Two guards abandoned their post at the doors and marched over to Justin. They grabbed his arms and dragged him out of the room. Every eye followed him. Even though the guards handled him roughly, Justin couldn’t feel anything. He did not scream or put up a fight. The only thing he could think was: “What have I done?”

   

_Topkapi Serail_ : the great Harem 

 

_Gates of Felicity_ : entrance of the Harem

 

_Ikbal_ : favourite of the sultan, but not yet his wife

 

_Masa al-chair_ : good evening

 

_Divan_ : the council of the sultan

 

_Kizlar Agasi_ : white chief eunuch of the Harem

 

_Defterdar_ : first adviser of the Sultan

 

_Oud_ : string instrument

 

_Tabla_ : drum

 

_Saidi_ : Sir

  _Caucasian_ : white-skinned, from Western Asia or Europe  _Circassian_ : people (women) from Circassia in Northern Caucasus. Circassian women were famous for their beauty and therefore desirable as slave concubines.  

_Lord of life, Grand Turk_  : titles to address the sultan of the Ottoman Empire

  


End file.
